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A few years ago, I pulled a prank where I took Viagra in church, just to see if the drug's pants-popping powers were as strong as they claimed. They were.  I went to the Cathedral of the Weeping Nail-Holes (some names have been changed), the largest Catholic church in Boston, popping my Viagra on the way. The Web site told me that Mass was held every Saturday at 4:00 p.m., which everyone knows is because Catholics are not committed enough to get up early on Sunday morning. I arrived a few minutes before 4, stepping into a magnificent cathedral with vaulted ceilings and breathtaking stained glass portrayals of people being tortured. There was a container of holy water, which I dipped my fingers in and then licked off.  I could feel the Viagra coming on, so I tried not to make eye contact with anyone as I grabbed a program and sat down. My first thought was, Man, these programs are kind of frilly. My second thought was, Why am I so underdressed? My third thought was Oh, crap. I was crashing a wedding. On Viagra.  I looked around, and realized I was in for a rough couple of hours: lots of young, attractive women, dressed in low-cut blouses and sleeveless dresses. The bridesmaids walked down the aisle, hot and ready for a union. Everybody looked great, even the priest.  At least it was easy to take pictures; I WAS AT A WEDDING Then came the bride. Why do you have to stand for the bride? The problem was that everything was standing for the bride. I put my hands in my pockets and tried to rein in the grazing hippo. I happened to catch the young woman in the aisle across from me glance over, and her eyes widened. Her eyes weren't the only thing that was widening.  Here comes the bride. Pants just got wide. Holy Mother Mary, these Catholic weddings take a long time. Sit, stand, kneel. Sit, stand, kneel. This was not a wedding, it was calesthenics. Meanwhile I'm bumping the hymnals off the pew and mashing my knees against my own boner. We came to the communion part of the service, which took about thirty minutes to set up. There's all this pomp and circumstance around the bread and the cup -- why? It's just bread and wine. It's not like they're cooking a souffle. Despite the length of the service, the length of my wigwam did not go down, proving Viagra's massive staying power even during a High Mass. Thankfully, there was no receiving line, so I exited the Church of the Holy Boner along with all the other guests, holding my sport coat in front of me as I walked. What no one knew is that I could have held it without using my hands. My experiment complete, it was time to take the sexiness down another notch: how would Viagra work in a Jewish synagogue? And here's where things got really weird. |
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